Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,49

his chair. "Still not interested."

I gave the printout a worried glance. "But what about the other items? You don't hate all of them, do you?"

Without much enthusiasm, he reached across the desk and retrieved the printout. He scanned the first page, and then flipped to the second. He studied this page for only a fraction of a minute. Without bothering to flip to the third, he tossed the printout vaguely in my direction and said, "Yup."

I shook my head. "Yup what?"

"I hate it all."

My shoulders slumped. "But you didn't even read the third page – or the summary at the end."

I was particularly proud of the summary. For every single festival, I'd gotten agreements for major signage – banners across the midway, the name of Blast Tools featured prominently in nearly every program. I'd also gotten every single festival to agree to unlimited media access and a whole booth dedicated to Blast Tools – even if most of the booths were actually tents, because the events were usually outdoors.

Still, the point remained the same. I'd gotten Blast Tools plenty of exposure for their money.

In Chase's office, I spent the next few minutes explaining all of this to him in great detail until he cut me off by saying, "Pretend you're a guy. Are you gonna be hot for a cakewalk?"

Hot? Seriously? "Hey, plenty of guys like cakes, too, you know."

"Not as much as they like bikinis."

Obviously, he'd never seen my dad devour a chocolate fudge cake. Stubbornly, I replied, "Well maybe it depends on the guy. Or the cake."

Chase gave me a long inscrutable look before saying. "Or the bikini."

"So, what are you saying? You want me to propose some bikini-related events?" I hesitated. "Because I've got to be honest with you, I don't think the festival planners would go for it. And I can't exactly blame them."

"Forget the bikinis," he said. "That's not what I'm asking for."

"Then what are you asking for?"

"Well, not a cakewalk, I can tell you that. Think of your target audience."

I saw what he meant, but in my own defense, there were only two cakewalks on the whole list. And neither one had been my idea.

Rather they'd been something personally requested by the festival planners.

To Chase, I said, "Just look at the list again. They're not all cakewalks. What about the T-shirt giveaway? Or the sponsored barbecue?" As I spoke, I reached out and nudged the printout closer to Chase's side of the desk.

He didn't even glance at it.

Instead, he steepled his fingers and said, "What about the demolition derby?"

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "There is no demolition derby, or least not one sponsored by Blast Tools."

"Yeah, but there should be."

I considered all of my hard work, which apparently, had been a total waste. "If you wanted a demolition derby, why didn't you say so?"

"I guess I forgot you were a chick."

At this, I felt my teeth literally grind together. "A chick?"

I wasn't even sure what was more insulting. That he'd called me a chick, or that he'd actually forgotten I was female at all.

Obviously, he really did find me repugnant.

Across from me, he said, "Tell me. When's the last time you purchased a tool?"

I knew exactly what he was getting at, and I refused to give him the satisfaction. "Just a few weeks ago." My chin lifted. So there.

"Oh yeah? What was it?"

"A screwdriver. And I'll have you know, I use it all the time."

The words had barely left my lips when I recalled that he'd actually seen me using the screwdriver only a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, I'd been using it not on a screw, but to pry open my sunroof, which wasn't exactly a standard use of the thing.

Quickly, I added, "And I don't only use it on my sunroof."

"Good to know."

"Oh, and I also bought a foldable shovel just six months ago. I keep that in the trunk." I hesitated. "Meaning the trunk of my car, not a trunk-trunk."

He studied my face for a long moment before asking, "And what about the crown?"

Huh? "What crown?"

"You keep one of those in your car?"

What kind of question was that? "No. Why would I?"

"You tell me."

I laughed. "I can't tell you, because I don't do it."

His eyebrows lifted. "Alright. A tiara then."

I gave him a perplexed look. "I don't keep one of those in my car either."

Looking less than convinced, he asked, "You sure about that?"

"Of course I’m sure. I think I'd know if…" My words trailed off as I realized